


Keep Me In Your Heart

by Mazarin221b



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Death, Grief, Happy Ending, Hope, Love, M/M, Mourning, New Beginnings, yes I went there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 16:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17984612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazarin221b/pseuds/Mazarin221b
Summary: Grief and loss and pain and love and joy and hope. You need all of these to build a life.This isn’t his first experience with loss; he remembers the long, painful downward spiral of his grandmother to cancer and the heart-rending, sharp trauma of losing his father in a car accident. He knows that with time things will become easier, that it will heal. But in the midst of a malestrom of loss so sharp it feels like an open wound, it’s hard to remember it.Yuuri is there to remind him. He’s always there, balm for Victor’s wounded soul.





	Keep Me In Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not even sorry.
> 
> Grief comes to all of us, eventually. But it's important we all learn how to cope. I wrote this in one long exhalation of my own sort of...meditation on what it means to lose someone, so if there are any mistakes/typos, let me know.

 

_“I’m sorry, Mr. Nikiforov. There’s really nothing more we can do.”_

Victor rubs his fist under his eyes, the veterinarian's words ringing in his head. _“Leukemia at this age, well. She’s almost sixteen, and that’s an incredibly long life for a standard poodle. She’s been so well taken care of, and it’s a testament to you.”_

He turns and looks over the seat at Makka, sleeping quietly in the back. Her muzzle, long gone grey, is tucked into the space between the seats like it always is, and his heart gives a painful, shuddering thump.

“I’ll set up a futon for her when we get home,” Yuuri says quietly, his eyes on the road ahead of him, fingers white on the steering wheel. “She’ll be as comfortable as we can make her, for now.”

Victor swallows down a sob. “Okay,” he says. But it’s not okay, not really. Not when his love, his darling Makkachin, is dying.

………………………………………………………………………….

He doesn’t even sleep in their bed, now, the bed he and Yuuri bought when Yuuri arrived from Hasetsu only three months before. Instead he curls up next to Makka on their futon, his face buried in her neck as she sleeps, startling awake at every twitch or whimper.

She’s not really in pain, not yet, but her lethargy and malaise last week was telling enough for Victor to take her to the doctor. Canine leukemia was a bad enough diagnosis, and at her age, a fatal one.

Victor jerks awake when Makka shifts, and instead of trying to go back to sleep he places a hand over her soft, warm body and breathes in her doggy smell, one he usually teased her about but now as vital to him as oxygen.

He got her when he was all of twelve, after his parents had decided to divorce and the court battle was so vicious he’d gone to live with Lilia and Yakov and he’d been so desperately lonely, his parents unable to see Victor past their own desire to extract vengeance on each other. Lilia tolerated Makka with bad grace, Yakov snuck her treats under the table, and Victor knew, in his heart of hearts, that there was one person in all the world who loved him for him, unconditionally, without reserve.

Until Yuuri, that is.

Victor shifts and tries to keep the tears at bay. It’s Yuuri who comes out of their bedroom at four am to tuck a blanket around him, Yuuri who feeds Maaka all of her favorite things, Yuuri who holds Victor in the dark of the night when now, four days after her diagnosis and it’s all sinking in, Victor curls up into a sobbing mess on the bathroom floor, away from where Makka would see him and try to lick away his tears. Yuuri is his rock, his love, and the cruel, vicious irony that now, when he’s the happiest he’s ever been, fate must then take this turn, tearing a hole in his heart that he’s not sure will ever heal.

Something in his body language, in the tension that runs down his arms, must transfer, because Makkachin wakes, her eyes cracking open. She slowly snuffles around until she can settle on her belly and bury her nose under Victor’s chin, her breath loud in his ear. The slow, irrevocable slide has begun, and Victor knows he’ll have to make that one last, merciful decision soon. But Makka lifts her head and looks at him, the low nightlight from the kitchen gleaming in her now-tired eyes, and he knows. He should call Yuuri. He should let him know. But he can’t, he wants this quiet time for the two of them, alone.

Makka thumps her tail slowly, her exhalations now carrying a bit of a whine until Victor slowly pets her head, rubbing his thumb over her soft, silky ears. He holds onto her until he can feel her heart start to slow, and when Yuuri comes out of the bedroom again to check on them he sits down, one hand on Makkachin’s head and one on Victor’s, a connection to both of them that keeps Victor grounded until the sun breaks across the sky and Makka takes one, final breath.

……………………………………………………………………

It’s almost two weeks before Victor can make himself go to the rink. Yuuri stayed with him those first days, arranging for cremation, calling Yakov and Yuri and Chris, bundling Victor up in blankets with hot tea and hours upon hours of nothing but sitting, letting Victor empty himself over and over again, Yuuri a steady, quiet presence as Victor falls apart in his arms.

This isn’t his first experience with loss; he remembers the long, painful downward spiral of his grandmother to cancer and the heart-rending, sharp trauma of losing his father in a car accident. He knows that with time things will become easier, that it will heal. But in the midst of a malestrom of loss so sharp it feels like an open wound, it’s hard to remember it.

Yuuri is there to remind him. He’s always there, balm for Victor’s wounded soul.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel up to everything,” Yuuri says, as they walk to the rink, the spring flowers just now starting to peek up through the soil. “And I’m here if you need me.”

Victor steps over a small pile of leftover snow, slushy grey and dirty. “I know. But you’ve got a lot to do today. I’ll be fine.”

Yuuri eyes him carefully but doesn’t say another word. When he finds Victor later, hiding in a storage closet, his shirt wet with his tears, he simply sits down and holds Victor’s hands, and cries with him.

…………………………………………………………….

Grief is a funny thing, sometimes.

Victor finds one of Makkachin’s favorite toys under the sofa two months later, and instead of crying he laughs, a chuckle tinged with sadness, certainly, but the memory of Makka knocking her tiny hedgehog toy under the sofa every other day then whining to get it back until Victor got the broom and pushed it out makes him smile, and it feels strange on his face.

But it catches him off guard, too, when Yuuri picks up Makka’s bowls and Victor can’t find them, immediately noticing they’re not in their places by the end of the breakfast bar as soon as he comes home. He lashes out, instantly furious.

“I realize it’s been a while but must you constantly pick up after everything? You’re worse than a nagging mother, Yuuri, I swear you are. You act like a goddamn maid, always tidying. Can’t you just leave something once in a while? Christ.”

Yuuri swallows and slowly opens the dishwasher. He pulls out Makka’s two bowls and puts them back on the floor.

“One had mildew in it,” he says, and turns toward the bedroom.

Victor is instantly ashamed.

“God, Yuuri, I’m so, so sorry,” he sobs into Yuuri’s back, his arms around Yuuri’s waist. “I”m so sorry, please forgive me, I don’t know what came over me.”

Yuuri dashes his hand across his eyes. “I miss her too, Victor. I do. And I know how hard this is for you. It’s like a nagging pain you have for so long you sort of forget it’s there, until you’re reminded.”

Oh. Yes. He would be reminded, wouldn’t he, the loss of his own Vicchan only two years old, and Victor feels even worse. So he pulls Yuuri over to the sofa and wraps his arms around Yuuri’s slim shoulders, and this time, Yuuri’s grief joins his own, his darling Yuuri’s tears for Victor, yes, and for Makka, but also for himself.

…………………………………………………………………………….

Summer wears on and Victor slowly, slowly feels more himself. Victor wonders if that's because it's the first time he's had someone to walk with him in his grief, to be strong for him when he couldn't. Victor thinks about other relationships he's had, one's that couldn't take the stress or the drama of his life at the best of times, and yet Yuuri remains, steadfast.

Victor thinks about relationships forged in fire, their strength multiplied a hundredfold.

Skating goes on, too, Victor's return to competition secured. He’s chosen his short program music, a piece he commissioned to memorialize his darling Makka, and he throws himself into it. The choreography is soft, sweet, bouncing, and joyous; everything Makka brought to him all the years she was alive.

As weeks wear on he catches Yuuri looking pensively at him less and less. He finds joy in the mundane of everyday life again, dinners together with Yuuri a respite for his weary body and mind. Their nights together, too, resume their passion; Yuuri’s gasps sweet in his ears as his body calls to Victor’s. These things make him feel whole again, make him feel alive and vibrant in ways he almost didn’t think were possible. He sweats and bleeds and aches with hard training and endless publicity shoots and question after question about himself, about his return, about Yuuri, and, sometimes, about Makkachin.

Victor finds it to be a relief, to talk about her now, sometimes.

Which is why it is slightly surprising that two weeks before the start of the first events of the Grand Prix series, when he and Yuuri are sorting out schedules and flights and preparing to go to Skate Canada for Yurio, he hears Yuuri suck in a breath next to him in bed, his phone screen illuminating his face in the dark.

“What?” Victor asks.

“Oh, nothing. Just a cute pic. Sorry, I’ll shut down so we can sleep.”

And Victor thinks nothing more of it, until a few days later Yuuri says “Awwwww!” under his breath, and Victor can’t help it, he leans over and there, on his screen, is a box. And in that box are six fuzzy little puppies, some black, some brown, and one looking right into the camera with it’s mouth open and tongue out, tiny little puppy teeth on full display. It’s got bright blue eyes and a funny white patch over one ear, and its front feet look too big for its body.

Victor feels a thump behind his ribcage.

“They’re cute,” he says.

“They’re all rescued from a puppy mill that was raided a couple of days ago.”

“Was that what you were looking at the other night?”

“Yeah, sorry. It’s just a nice story, that they’re safe.” Yuuri turns his screen off and settles down in bed. Victor kisses him goodnight and does the same, but it is rather odd that that fierce little pup with his mouth wide open in a happy, playful grin, stays on his mind.

……………………………………………………………………….

Yuuri is sitting on the sofa, warm and soft and dressed in pajama bottoms and t-shirt, and Victor wanders in to sit on the floor next to him, his head leaning on the cushions. Yuuri gets the hint and threads his fingers through Victor’s hair.

“What’s bothering you?” he says quietly.

“I keep worrying about those puppies,” Victor says. “I’m sure they’re fine, I just...I don’t know. I’m sure they’re scared, is all.”

Yuuri smiles down at him. “Well, let me look and see.” He taps on his screen a few times and Victor waits, pensive, until he speaks again. “Ah, yes, here. It says the puppies are being kept at the rescue shelter until they can be adopted. They’re weaned already; they’re being given their shots and everything then will be available for adoption.”

Victor nods. Yuuri kisses his head. They go to bed, and Victor can feel Makka’s phantom weight, curled close behind him.

He sleeps, and it's finally, finally deep.

………………………………………………….

In the morning, he shakes Yuuri awake by the shoulder.

“I want that puppy,” he says, as soon as Yuuri opens his eyes.

“A whaza?” Yuuri says, then rubs his eyes. “What? Victor, did you just say you want a puppy?”

“Not a puppy, that puppy. The one in the picture, looking at the camera. The brown one, with the white patch.”

Yuuri sits up in bed and looks at him closely. “Are you sure? That’s, um. Sudden.”

Victor pulls up the picture again. “Yes. No. Not really. I don’t know, it just feels right. I mean, look at him.” He shows the picture to Yuuri, whose expression melts.

“Awwwwww, yeah. It’s awfully cute. But we’re about to start the season. Is now a good time to get a puppy?”

Victor looks at him and raises an eyebrow. Yuuri sighs and holds out his hand. Victor takes it, and together they fill out the potential adoptive owner forms.

………………………………………………………………………….

“No, Alexi, not on the rug!” Victor yelps and snatches up a startled little pup, pee dribbling as Victor runs over onto the little fake patch of grass he and Yuuri found online and are trying to get Alexi to use until his tiny bladder grows big enough to hold it for walks. Alexi dribbles a little on the pad with wide eyes, and Victor rubs his little head and kisses him.

Victor never really considered getting a house with a yard, but now he’s starting to wonder, as he scrubs pee from the floor for the third time that week.

“He’s not going to use the pad unless we sit there and make him,” Yuuri says, and tosses Victor another towel. “You keep roughhousing with him and it makes him lose control because he just runs off to pee as soon as he feels the urge. You have to actually train him by anticipating him.”

Victor mimes talking motions with his hand and rolls his eyes.

“I saw that,” Yuuri says, and comes over to playfully kick Victor’s butt as he’s cleaning the floor. Victor flops over, defeated, and Alexi runs over immediately to lick his face and chew on his nose. Victor laughs and tries to dodge Alexi sticking his tongue in his mouth, and Yuuri joins in.

“Get him, Alexi!” Yuuri says, and tickles Victor’s armpits so he laughs and Alexi can stick his tongue in his mouth again.

“Bleah! Oh my God, Yuuri, just wait until he does it to you!” Victor giggles and wrestles their tiny little pup, who climbs up on Victor’s chest and stands on him. He’s a funny little dog, curious and silly, much more rambunctious than Makka ever was, and certainly much more prone to trouble.

Victor adores him.

Yuuri adores him too, Victor finding the two of them curled up asleep, Alexi cradled in Yuuri’s arms, so often that Victor worries about Alexi learning to stay at all alone. But he’s doing well, snuggling up in his little covered bed while they’re away, kept safe and secure in a large round pen in a corner of the living room. The first few days they had to leave and go to the rink were hard, Alexi crying at the gates as the door closed, and Victor a complete anxious wreck until he could run home at lunch and sit with him. But now, a couple of weeks in, he’s doing well, Mila and Yurio and Georgi dropping in to check on him, Yurio even offering to dogsit on weekends they’re at events and he isn't. All in all, things are working out well, better than Victor had ever expected.

Makkachin’s favorite hedgehog toy goes over well, too, Victor handing it over with his breath tight in his chest and Yuuri holding his hand. Alexi’s yip of joy as he immediately tosses it in the air and bats it under the sofa then flops on his side and whines hits Victor right in the heart, and he gets the broom with tears in his eyes. That night, Victor still cries, even with Alexi trying to snuffle his face, even with Yuuri holding him tight in the safety of their bed. He still misses his girl, his own Makkachin, and as much love and care as he feels for Alexi, it seems that hole will never be quite filled.

……………………………………………………………………………….

One evening, right in the middle of the season, the buzzer for the apartment goes off. Alexi leaps from the sofa and starts barking, running in circles, most likely anticipating Yurio or Mila. Yuuri walks over to the screen, hits the button, and a delivery person shows up on the tiny video monitor.

“Oh!” Yuuri says. “I’ll come right down. Victor, I’m going to get this package, I’ll be right back.”

Victor nods and tries to quiet a yipping Alexi. Yuuri reappears within a few moments with a small box in his hands.

“Did you get something?” Victor asks, and tries to get his fingers out of Alexi’s mouth. He’s teething, his tiny needle puppy teeth being replaced by his adult teeth, and he’s chewing everything.

“Well, yes, we all did. In a way.” Yuuri opens the box. He pulls something out and hands Victor a black velvet pouch. He glances at Yuuri, who looks nervous as Victor unties the little strings and a small, teardrop-shaped pendant falls out into his hands. It’s a lovely thing, the color of dark honey, set in a golden loop.

“What is this for?” he asks, bemused.

Yuuri looks down at his hands. “I hope you understand and aren’t upset at me,” Yuuri says, eyebrows drawn down. “It seemed like a good idea when I did it.”

Victor narrows his eyes. “What did you do?”

“This is a created stone, made with a few of Makka’s ashes,” Yuuri said. “I wanted you to have a way to carry her close to you, whenever you skated. It took too long to come so we missed your first event, but I thought. Well. You could take her with you to France.”

Victor chokes, the little stone in his hand almost pulsing with energy, a tiny piece of his precious girl right in his hand. He’s not mad - how could he possibly be upset, not when Yuuri has done something so incredibly thoughtful as this? He places the stone back into the bag and throws his arms around Yuuri and hugs him tight, breathing into his neck.

“God, I love you,” he says. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Thank you. How did you know?”

“I knew you missed her, and I did too. And I wanted something for us to remember her by. So I did these. See?” Yuuri opens a second pouch and he has his own stone. And when he opens the third, there’s a square prism with a larger loop. Yuuri takes the third stone and attaches it to Alexi's collar, where it sparkles in the lamplight.

“That way she's always with all of us,” Yuuri says quietly.

Alexi squirms and licks under Victor's jaw as Yuuri wraps his arms around both of them. Victor swallows heavily, but his tears this time are tears of happiness, the hole in his heart finally filled with love.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Warren Zevon's "Keep Me In Your Heart," which he wrote while he was dying, and was released on his last album. It's a sweet, heartbreaking plea for remembering, which is what the living must do for the dead. Watch Coco, you'll get what I mean.


End file.
